Battery Life
by Ven Mercy
Summary: Kurt's in the hospital. Blaine gets freaked. Finn gets told. Puck gets protective. Now a not-one-shot.
1. Chapter 1

Blaine was rather enjoying a regular evening in his dorm. He and Wes and David were lounging about, working on various tasks; David had his history notes spread out all over the floor (with the occasional taped to the wall), Wes was humming, burrowed in his own stack of sheet music (Eric Hutchinson's _Rock&Roll_ in their now possible 9 part harmony, thanks to Kurt's countertenor range), and Blaine was sitting on his bed, scrolling mindlessly through a review on his computer for his Philosophy class's Metaphysics Test (AKA The Grade Killer). His phone was sitting beside him, oddly silent all night. Well, not _silent_. He was still texting various other friends. There just so happened to be a void of texts from a _certain someone_ that would have usually been hanging with them had it not been a Saturday, and this _certain someone_ decided to go home to spend the weekend with his family and friends.

But other than that it was totally normal.

Actually, it was worrying Blaine a bit. Normally Kurt was always texting him, even if it was just to say _Finn's wearing plaid. Again. Kill me now._ Not that he was too worried. After all, Kurt was allowed to be too busy with his family and friends to remember to text him. It wasn't like it was his business. They were just friends, after all. And that's all they were ever going to be.

Yup. Him and Kurt. BFFL.

It was alright for Blaine, as Kurt's BFFL, to notice how perfect Kurt's hair was. Or how flawlessly pale his skin was. Or how cute he could be when he was flustered or stressed. Or how those skinny jeans seemed to fit him _just right_…

Alright, so maybe, _just maybe_, he had a _tiny little_ more-than-friend-_crush _on Kurt. And maybe one day Kurt would feel the same. Blaine could hold out hope. Besides, he wasn't going to pressure him. He'd been in a relationship like that and it did _not_ end well. So he'd keep dropping hints, even thought Wes and David kept telling him to, and I quote, "Either jump his bones, get your tongue in his throat, or tell him how you feel. Just anything to stop that creepy googley eyed look whenever you see him or look at your phone."

Their words, not his.

Blaine glanced down at his phone again and pursed his lips. Still nothing. Maybe Kurt's phone died?

The thought made him double check the battery power on his own phone. His pursed lips turned into a scowl at the blinking red battery sign in the top corner of the screen. Groaning a sigh, he slipped his laptop onto the bed and was searching for a place to step onto the floor that wasn't one of David's notes when his phone went off. The sudden activity of it startled Blaine, nearly causing it to vibrate out of his hand. He managed to fumble with it until he could get a look a caller ID.

_Unknown Number_

Frowning in confusion, he clicked the _Talk_ button.

"Hello?"

"Blaine?"

His heart leaped to his throat. Kurt! A part of him wanted to demand what had taken him so long to get a hold of him and why he was calling him instead of texting like they normally did and why he sounded funny. But that would be unnecessarily overprotective. So instead he settled with a casual,

"What's up, Kurt? Everything all right?"

At the mention of the countertenor's name, Wes and David's head's snapped up and they shared a knowing grin. Which they then shared with Blaine. Who crumpled up one of the notes on the floor and went to throw it at one of them. But he stopped when he heard Kurt's next statement.

"I'm at Lima Memorial."

Blaine nearly dropped the phone again. Kurt was in the _hospital_? He thought Kurt had sounded strange, but he'd just put it down to something, well, less violent. His imagination went rampant. What if he got into an accident? Or worse, what if Karofsky got a hold of him? What if that Neanderthal was just waiting for Kurt to head back into town so he could—

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Blaine—"

There was a loud beeping sound and the line cut. Blaine cursed and checked the screen, only to see it black and, after frantically hitting the turn on button multiple times, see it stay black. With a wordless cry of frustration he threw the phone back onto his bed and made a beeline for his jacket. David and Wes' matching grins vanished, replaced by matching looks of worry.

"Blaine," Wes said slowly. "Is everything al—"

"Kurt's in the hospital," Blaine interrupted, tearing through his closet for his boots. Of course, the one time he actually decides to clean up his room, including putting all of his outdoor clothing in his closet, he manages to have no idea where he put _anything_. "I need to get to Lima Memorial _right now_. I don't know what's wrong, but he sounded all strangled and tired and and I need to make sure he's alright because if something is seriously wrong I'm going to—"

"Slow down, Blaine," Wes commanded as he grabbed Blaine by the shoulders and led him away from the now chaotic closet while David resumed the search for him, only moving much more methodical. "I have my keys. David is going to find your shoes. Then we are going to drive to Lima. _Before_ you have a mental break down."

Blaine wasn't really listening. But he did nod and did his best to breath with a little more control before he hyperventilated.

Kurt was in the hospital. _Kurt_ was in the _hospital_. The boy he most definitely had a crush, or maybe more, on was lying in the hospital, injured, maybe even—

Nope. Not going to think of that. _Not_ going to_ think_ of _that_. Blaine ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the disgusting thickness of gel that came away with it. He absentmindedly wiped it on the back of David's blazer as his friend finally found his shoes and handed them to him. Blaine was hopping out of the door already with only one boot half on. He was already at the front door when Wes and David came running up behind him. The boys were off the school grounds and hurling towards Lima in minutes, ignoring the subfreezing temperatures of the car. David put on the radio, probably trying to distract Blaine from thinking too wildly. But it was way too late for that. Blaine's imagination had taken his mind by storm.

Or, rather, one thought had taken hold over all others and was replaying itself over and over in his mind, each in a different scenario. At first it was at the mall. Then it was while Kurt was on his way back from Mercedes'. Then it was back at McKinley. Sometimes there was nothing but fists. Sometimes baseball bats. Other times there were knives. Worst of times there was… Blaine shuddered and pushed the very idea of the thought out of his mind. But always started with a flash of a red and white letterman jacket and ended with a broken, beautiful boy.

He lost track of time, but it felt like forever and a day before they pulled into the hospital parking lot. The car wasn't even at a full stop before Blaine hastily fumbled with his seatbelt and leaped out the door, not running exactly, but he kept his pace brisk. He breezed in through the doors, Wes and David hot on his heels, and strode up to the woman at the front desk.

"Which room is Kurt Hummel in?" He did his best to keep his tone polite, but judging by the bewildered and confused way she looked at him it must not have come across.

"We're friends of his," David added as the woman clicked away at her computer, casting a glance at Blaine every few seconds.

"He's on the second floor. Room 214," she told him. "But you should know—"

Blaine was already gone with a "Thanks" tossed over his shoulder. He skipped the elevator and headed straight for the stairs, taking them two at a time and practically slamming through the second floor door. He trotted down the hall, counting the room numbers as he went.

_210…211…212…213…214_!

He paused only a moment to catch his breath and adjust his blazer. He pulled on his worried face, steeled his mind against any possible gruesome and terrifying sight that might greet him, and was ready to either bombard a person with questions or gently pull them from Kurt (if he was awake). That way, if he was prepared, he would be less likely to do something wrong. Like cry. Or get so wobbly legged that he fell. With these thoughts set so firmly in his mind, he strode through the door. And, since he was totally prepared for a worst case scenario, his mind completely blanked at the sight before him.

The first thing he noticed was Finn (whom he recognized from a picture Kurt had shown him). The giant skyscraper of a teenager was sitting cramped in a chair next to the hospital bed, looking over at him with a thoroughly shocked and confused expression. The second thing he saw was Kurt.

Where he was ready to see an IV in the boy's arm and hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor, he was shocked by seeing nothing but a single bruise around his eye and a cast around his arm. No life support. No unconsciousness. Just those blue eyes he'd grown to know so well staring at him, an amused smirk twisting his lips.

"I told you," he rasped to Finn, who just leaned back in the chair and folded his arms over his chest with a lopsided grin.

Blaine opened and closed his mouth a few times, giving enough time for Wes and David to come strolling up behind him.

"This is why you wait for the hospital people to finish talking, Blaine," Wes told him as if he were a toddler, clapping a hand on his shoulder. He propelled his speechless, confused, and extremely relieved friend further into the room. David grabbed the second chair and pulled it up next to Finn, introducing the three Warblers.

"What happened to your hair, Blaine?" Kurt wondered, staring strangely him. Now even more confused, Blaine shuffled to the attached bathroom to look into the mirror. Only to see a flailing black octopus with way more than eight arms trying to eat his head. Blaine gaped. He must have accidentally reshaped it while frantically running his fingers through his hair. Stupid habits…

He went back out into the main room, having tried (and failed) to tame the hungry sea anemone that dared call itself hair and having gained back his voice.

"I seem to have restyled it while wondering why in the world you were in the hospital," he said slowly. Kurt rolled his eyes.

"I tried to tell you I was fine," he reminded the lead Warbler. "But you were the one who hung up on me."

"Actually, my phone did that all by itself," Blaine corrected, leaning against the wall a the end of the hospital bed. "So, before I have some sort of heart failure, why don't you start at the beginning."

"Well," Kurt began, shifting his casted arm. "We—Finn, Puck, and I— were driving home from Rachel's house, who had gotten together New Directions for a sort of mini reunion, when we drove past this big hill. Finn decided that it would be a great idea for us to go sledding. Puck was all for it, even though I mentioned to those two numbskulls that we didn't have sleds. They just grabbed some empty pizza boxes from someone's trash and went for it, probably just trying to prove me wrong. I, of course, decided to wait in the car for them, seeing as they have the attention span of two month old puppies. I figured they'd go down twice, get bored, and want to go home and watch the game or play Call of Duty, or something. Besides, I was not sitting on a disgusting old pizza box in my new jeans and jacket.

"I was in the car for maybe ten minutes, minding my own business, when suddenly those two idiots open my door and manhandled me out. Normally I would have been able to worm my way out and reach the safety of my truck but that crazy exercise schedule Coach Beiste has them on has gotten them freakishly fit. So the next thing I can remember is them dropping me onto one of those revolting old grease sponges and shoving me down the hill. Apparently, I hit a tree. I broke my arm, hurt my throat, got a mild concussion, and I got a giant black eye that's going to take all of my cover up to hide. I called you to tell the Dean that I might have not been back on Monday because the doctors are keeping me here for a few days to make sure my throat's going to be alright."

He glared at his step-brother, who looked away innocently. By now Blaine was massaging the bridge of his nose and Wes and David were shaking their heads.

"That was really dangerous, Finn," Blaine told him quietly. "People die from sledding into trees. It sounds weird, but it's true. You need to be more careful or else someone might get seriously hurt. And Kurt? Next time abandon ship."

There was an awkward pause. Finn looked like he was about to say something when another teenage boy appeared in the doorway, this one sporting a mohawk. The three Warblers had heard enough about Puck and his "badass mohawk" to not have needed a picture reference.

Puck glanced at Finn and Kurt before taking the time to critically examine the Dalton boys. David shifted uncomfortably at the stare and Wes, while simply staring back, would later admit that the guy had freaked him out. When his eyes came to rest on Blaine, he folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the door frame.

"So Kurt," He asked the injured boy without taking his eyes off of the visibly stressed one. "He your boyfriend?"


	2. Chapter 2

**AN- Alright, so maybe I was convinced to make this a not-one-shot. I'm not sure if the awks with Puck lived up to expecations, buuut I tried .**

**PS- I (thankfully) haven't been in the hospital too often, most definitely not in the past couple of years. I, therefore, am unclear about whether there are showers in the bathrooms attatched to the rooms. For the sake of this fic, I am saying there isn't.**

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There was another pause, just as awkward as the first. Or at least, it was to Blaine. He was pretty sure that he was blushing, and was thanking whatever chromosome it was that made him blush on the nearly invisible place on the back of his neck. However he knew Kurt wasn't so blessed. He'd seen the boy's face change into a large variety of reds and pinks before. And, in fact, at that rather blunt statement by his old Glee Club member he noticed Kurt's cheekbones were the healthy colour of a tomato. Well, at least one of them was. The other was marred by that goddamned black eye. And, to Blaine's delight, he was opening and closing his mouth multiple times. Like he didn't quite know how to respond. Which was a good sign, right? After all, Kurt always had a response. For everything.

Blaine also noticed the large grins that spread across Wes and David's faces and was quite annoyed and vaguely amused when they managed to simultaneously cross their arms over their chest and slowly turn to him with a raised brow. Finn was just giving Kurt that charming lopsided grin of his.

Puck was still waiting in the door frame, shifting that freakishly intimidating stare from Blaine to Kurt, adding a smug grin with it.

"If you don't say anything, I'm going to assume it's a yes," the mohawked boy warned him. "And if it's a yes then I get to give the "Break his heart than I break you" speech."

"Hey!" Finn cried indignantly. "I'm the step-brother here! I'm the one who gets to say that!"

Puck rolled his eyes. "Dude, we already agreed that _I_ was the guy running the Secret Service while he was in town. Besides, if you were any more non-threatening, you'd be a gummy bear. "

Even though he'd only just met Finn, Blaine agreed. Finn was big, but more in that clumsy big-dog puppy kind of way. Puck was more of the rabid wolf meets tyrannosaurus-rex variety. Definitely not someone he would have wanted to poke with a stick. Not that he was in the habit of jabbing people with broken pieces of tree.

Puck stalked up to Blaine, who managed to keep his cool. Even thought the hellofalot-taller-than-him football player made him want to go back into the bathroom (To check on the sticky black mop on his head, of course. Not to hide. Duh.).

"Do you have sexual intentions towards my boy?" Puck asked lowly, glowering down at the Warbler. Blaine just stared, previous sense of chill disolved. Did he what now? He was pretty sure that his mouth was forming a response that was something along the lines of what he was thinking. Unfortunately that thought process happened to be,

"Uhhh—I, Uhhh—Ummm—Uhhh—"

"Calm your oxytocin, boys," Kurt inturrupted, raising his hands—well, hand and plaster cast— peaceably. "Blaine is a friend."

Without turning away, Puck added, "Do you have the intention to become 'more than friends' with Kurt?"

Fortunately, Blaine's thought process changed. It went from gibberish to "Yes, I would very much like to be 'more than friends' with Kurt."

Unfortunately, his mouth was still on the prior brainwave.

"Puck!" Kurt snapped, his voice cracking adorably. "Say one more ridiculous thing to him and I will castrate you."

Puck didn't respond. He just narrowed his eyes and jutted out his chin. He turned to Wes and David, but before he could say anything, they both quickly said,

"Girlfriends!"

Puck just glared for another few seconds before turning on his heel back towards the door. While his back was turned, Blaine gestured to the football player and gave Kurt a look of confusion, terror, and general whatthe_fuck_-ery. Kurt just shook his head and waved him off.

"Finnocence," Puck called as he was half way out the door. "Let's go. I can hear your stomach from over here. You two," he added whirling around to look at Wes and David, who jumped and were suddenly sitting with ramrod straight backs. "Make sure Jim Morrison over there doesn't try anything funny. Or there will be hell to pay."

Finn just blinked at his friend before rising to leave.

"Text me if you want real food," he added to Kurt as he left, ignoring the injured boy's mumbles of how most of the things Finn qualified as edible weren't actually food.

As the door clicked shut gently behind him, yet another silence filled the room (Gee, that was happening a lot). Blaine was rather busy gaping at the door, and he was pretty sure that, if he checked, Wes and David would have similar wide-eyed looks of utter confusion.

"Does anyone know what just happened?" David asked slowly.

Kurt just shrugged. "Ignore him. Puck's poorly developed social skills are nothing to be afraid of. But I still advise not to cross him."

"Note taken," Blaine murmured, absentmindedly running another hand through his hair, only to wince when his hand came back covered in some more gel. Alright, that was it. If he was going to be doing this all day then he was _not_ going to put up with it. He growled, "Kurt, I am stealing your sink. Find a way to get Wes and David to amuse you."

He turned back into the bathroom to a call of, "Good luck. But the sink's kind of stuck in the wall," from Kurt.

It took a bit of maneuvering, but Blaine managed to get his head close enough to the faucet to half stick his head under the tap and pour the water over the other half of his head with his hands. It took a bit of time to get all of the gel out, but by the time he dried his hair with the hand towel his hair was more or less back to the way it naturally was. Mind you, the curls were damp and just hanging there, but it was much more natural than having it plastered to his head. If truth be told, Blaine actually hated wearing his hair gelled down. It was a pain to do every morning and he liked his hair all bushy. But Dalton wasn't a mini-fro kind of school. So it was either gel it down or cut it off. And there was no way on this good earth that anyone was touching his hair with scissors.

When he stepped back out, he had another moment of complete shock. Seriously, this was the third or fourth time today. Was someone trying to give him a heart attack?

In the largest space of the room (which was between the window and the hospital bed) Wes was scowling at Kurt as the boy was instructing him through some kind of dance, much to the amusement of David. Wes was not a dancer. Plain and simple. The guy had rhythm, but it just didn't transfer anywhere past his mouth and vocal chords. Which was why the Warbler choreography was always so simple. Even though the council changed members often, Wes had pronounced himself as Head Choreographer Until The Day He Graduated. If anyone tried to say otherwise they were met with a glare that probably could actually kill someone if it tried. Therefore, simple 'dance steps'.

This, however, seemed much more elaborate than their usual "three steps to the left. Now turn and look at the audience", and Blaine was almost sorry to have missed it. And, to Blaine's added disappointment, the moment Wes had laid eyes on Blaine reentering he refused to do anything else, stating that Blaine's forced 'contract' was now null and void. The frustrated Warbler grabbed David by the back of his blaiser and dragged him from the room.

"Where're we going?" Wes' poor victim wondered, nearly tripping over the corner of the bed as he was dragged backwards.

"Somewhere that isn't here," was the growled response. Blaine barely heard David's worried mumble of, "What about Puck?" before they were out of the room.

Blaine cast Kurt a sideways glance and a raise eyebrow. A lopsided grin spread across his face when he saw Kurt staring now at his untamed hair (actually, he preferred the term 'free') with… was that approval? Or appreciation? Or was it affection? Or some other 'a' word that he couldn't think of at the moment, but was still definitely an awesome thing?

Blaine took a few more moments to drink in the 'a' look before breaking the silence.

"So what was that about?" He wondered as he strolled around to the chair that Finn had once occupied. Kurt seemed shocked back into reality and stared blankly at him for a few moments before his mind registered the question, his cheeks turning a light shade of pink.

"What? Oh, I, uh," he said distractedly, "You, uh, you told me to get Wes and David to entertain me, so I did. I've never seen Wes dance before and thankfully he can be easy to easy to convince." He paused, pointing at Blaine's hair. "Is… is that what your hair actually looks like?"

Blaine grinned at his flusteredness, ruffling a hand through his damp curls and delighted to have his hand come away gel-free.

"Yup." He replied cheerily. "Well, sort of. It's a bit bigger. But water tends to deflate it."

"Why don't you leave it like that all the time?"

Blaine sighed with overdramatic longing, resting his arms on the side of the bed. "Because Dalton doesn't seem to appreciate the brilliance of the bed head look. Some nonsense about being 'proper and presentable young men'. Why, you like it?"

His grinned widened when Kurt nodded. Score one for genetics! He was pretty sure that if the voice in his head had a body it would be doing a victory dance. Hey, anything that could possibly label him as 'Kurt's Type' was definitely a plus. Even if it was his repressed mane.

Deciding to go somewhere with this that would hopefully get a few more hints, Blaine plucked an invisible microphone from thin air and 'spoke into it' with a very cheesy game-show-host voice.

"And what else would Mr. Kurt Hummel find that 'he liked' in a guy?"

Alright, so maybe he wasn't looking for hints so much as a detailed list of Kurt's interests. Complete with flow charts and diagrams. And maybe a picture or two. And he was starting to get bored with being 'subtle'.

Kurt blushed darker and looked away, choosing to become fascinated with a loose string on the blanket folded under him. Blaine was vibrating with both nerves and excitement. The awkward embarrassed looking away was definitely a good sign. Obviously it meant that Blaine was kindasortamaybe what he was looking for? Then again, that stupid other voice that he often wanted to somehow throw out of his head said, maybe he was awkward and embarrassed because Blaine _wasn't_ his type and he didn't want to say so. Which didn't make much sense or have much impact on the other voice that dancing in circles.

He was about to pursue further when yet another of Kurt's friends decided to make an entrance.

"Hell naw. You are not trying to put the moves on my boy while he's in the hospital."


	3. Chapter 3

**AN- Just a note. I'm in exams/start of new term for the next few days. This probably won't be much longer and I might be able to get it done in the next little while. They still might be up pretty quick, but I'm giving the warning just in case they're not :)**

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"Seriously, white boy? You watch too many soap oprahs."

Blaine did his best to look sheepish as he looked up at Mercedes. Actually, that was a lie. He was pretty sure that he was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. But it sounded a little better if he said he tried to look bashful. And the attempt at the adorable "curses, foiled again" look was much better than the look of annoyance he wanted to give. Not that he had anything against Mercedes. But he was probably just on the verge of getting somewhere with Kurt. Not, like, a base or anything! But maybe in a position where bases were an option.

Kurt's best friend (Well, _other _best friend) gave him a stern look that didn't look very stern before looking at Kurt, whom Blaine thought would have made an excellent fire truck, and looked about ready to bury his face in his hands. Geez, since when was Kurt so shy? It was just random a side comment about how awesome they would be together. Duh.

"Hey Kurt," she said, coming up and patting Kurt's (good) arm. "How're you feeling?"

"Sore," he replied, shifting his arm so that he was grasping her fingers. "Amused. Confused. A little embarrassed—"

"Honey, you could pass for a stop sign."

"—Okay, a lot embarrassed. Puck and Finn tend to have that ability when they're together." Blaine noted that he left out the part about _after_ Puck and Finn left. "Did you see them when you came in? Finn said he would bring me something other then this plastic food."

"Actually," Blaine corrected. "Finn told you to _text him_ for food. And the food here, however unappetizing, is not in fact made of plastic."

At Kurt's glower, he just responded with a cheeky grin.

"Oh shut up and grab my phone," the countertenor snapped. Good naturally, of course. Besides, every time he tried to snap the thing with his throat made his voice crack. Which was absolutely adorable, if he might add. "Finn stuck it in my shoe when I got in. Hence why I had to call you from his phone."

Blaine graciously got up to retrieve it as Mercedes answered Kurt's prior question.

"I didn't see them. But I did see two very fine guys in blazers sitting in the lobby. I put a few things together and guessed you called Blaine and that they came with him. I asked them about what happened. Sledding, huh?"

Kurt just shook his head and took the phone offered to him, muttering under his breath about the idiocy of teenaged boys. Which Blaine thought was kind of funny, since Kurt was a teenaged boy himself. But Kurt was also one-of-a-kind, he reasoned, and therefore in a whole different category. Kurt's first attempt at one-handed texting didn't turn out too well, so he instead decided to call his step-brother.

"Are you even allowed to use a phone in the hospital?" Blaine wondered as Kurt placed a rather intricate order ("Yes, Finn, mangoes and papaya can go in a salad… A star fruit is _green_ and looks like a _star_!… No, I do not want you to 'just run into McDonalds'!"). Mercedes shrugged.

"Might as well do it until someone says no. Then you play they 'I'm sorry, sir, I didn't know' card and it's all good."

Blaine blinked. "Your innocent voice is uncanny."

Mercedes laughed and shook her head, offering a small curtsy. Hopefully the little jokes were putting him on her good side. He knew that their evening with Kurt didn't go quite comfortably for her which probably didn't put them on great terms. He was hoping to change that. After all, it would be stupid to make an enemy of a potential boyfriend's best friend. And Mercedes seemed pretty cool.

Kurt huffed and tossed his phone on the bed.

"Seriously, sometimes I wonder how that boy gets by," he muttered mostly to himself. Personally, Blaine didn't really understand Kurt's vendetta against unhealthy food. Yeah, it was bad to eat all the time, but there are just those times when your body just craved a burger that wasn't made with real meat. Or just a tin of Pringles. And, yeah, he got that being a little anal about it was understandable with this dad's recent heart attack an all, but that's why they were called treats, right?

But he wasn't going to push the subject. Even though he wanted to, the want to avoid an angry tirade about health and staying in shape was even greater.

"What took you so long to get here?" Kurt asked Mercedes. "I called you just after Blaine, and, even though Dalton's a good two hours away, he's been here for a while."

Mercedes groaned as she shuffled to the other side of the bed before dropping in the chair next to Blaine.

"That doesn't sound good," Blaine said quietly with a grin, prompting Mercedes to give him a mock glare.

"My little sister got gum in her hair," She replied dryly. "My mama's out of town for the weekend and my dad had no idea how to handle it. So I had to try and get it out, which didn't work. So now dad's taking her to the hair dresser to get it cut out. If this was serious then I would've dropped her faster than you when you slipped on that buttered floor and would've been here before you could say "Marc Jacobs". But since you said you'd be absolutely fine I decided to solve the immediate crisis."

Kurt hissed in sympathy. "Totally understand, 'Cedes. I would've done the same thing. Except I don't think Finn would take to kindly to the idea of shaving his head…"

They shared a laugh before Kurt tried to slide off the bed.

"Woah there," Blaine said, putting a hand to Kurt's shoulder. The countertenor scowled.

"You do know that I'm functioning properly right?" Kurt said scathingly. "Which means that both my legs and excretory systems are working normally."

It took Blaine a minute to realize what the hell Kurt was talking about before blushing slightly and murmuring "Oh, right." He released Kurt, who hopped off and headed to the bathroom. Kurt had barely shut the door before Mercedes whirled around to face him.

"Look, white boy," she growled quietly, obviously not wanting Kurt to overhear. "I hear so much as one sniffle from him followed by your name and you'd better learn to sleep with your eyes open. That boy has been through too much to have his heart broken by the some hot, mop-headed guy who also happens to be the first gay guy he meets that's his own age." This made Blaine blink. Not from the speech itself, but from the whole fact that she thought that he was the first gay guy his age Kurt knew. Clearly he hadn't told her about Karofsky yet...

"And if I find out you pressured him into something, I will cutabitch."

Blaine gave her an exasperated look, running his hands through his hair. He cried, "Seriously! Do I give off this… erotic vibe, or something? First Wes and David, then Puck, now you! Now, I know I sang him 'Teenaged Dream' when we first met, but—"

"You what now?" Mercedes questioned with a quirked brow.

"Well, it ended up being a very well timed coincidence, but that's besides the point. The point is that I have no intentions of forcing him to do anything. Not even to eat a pudding cup. Besides, we aren't even dating!"

Yet.

Mercedes gave him a 'sizing up' look that kind of reminded him of the one Puck was giving him earlier before grabbing Kurt's phone and flicking through something on it. Once she found it, she opened her own phone and inputted whatever it was into her own phone before tossing the iPhone back onto the bed. Then she proceeded to text. Blaine thought about asking what she had been doing with Kurt's phone, but he held his tongue. Something told him that it was none of his business, and that the wrath of Mercedes would be just as bad, if not worse than the wrath of Puck.

Kurt took this moment to emerge from the washroom. "'Cedes, when you go can you _please_ grab some soap that doesn't make my hands feel like I've just pulled them out of a vat of saliva?"

Mercedes' face changed from dead serious to light and playful in half a second flat. Which kind of freaked Blaine out.

"No problem, Kurt," she chuckled, checking a message on her phone then tapping a few words into it before hitting send. "My dad's going to drop it off when he comes to pick me up."

And so Blaine vocally stepped back and let Mercedes and Kurt talk. He had her pretty much give a play-by-play of all of the Glee drama's he had missed. And, while listening in, Blaine was shocked at how much went on at McKinley. He'd heard a few stories from Kurt, like Quinn's pregnancy and the vitamin D fiasco. But seriously? Someone trashed their Christmas display and stole the presents? And there was something about Finn and Rachel, but he didn't quite understand because there was obviously information he was missing. But the word 'cheating' was mentioned multiple times. It was no wonder Kurt thought that Dalton life was dull and mundane.

After about a half hour (within which Kurt complained about Finn's inability to do anything quickly) Mercedes' dad called to tell her to come down. She gave Kurt an awkward hug (since the whole cast thing) and then, strangely enough went to give Blaine one too. A little weirded out, he returned the action.

"You're welcome," she whispered in his ear as she pulled away and left, leaving Blaine to stare blankly at the now closed door.

"What'd she say?" Kurt wondered, having heard her say _something_. Blaine shook his head.

"I have absolutely no idea," he said honestly. Sure, he had known _what_ she said, he just didn't know what it _meant._ Why was he thanking her? Then he realized that he and Kurt were alone. Again. Finally.

But still, he couldn't just pick up where he left off. He had to build. Because it was one thing to not be subtle. It was another to be abrupt. And abrubtness got confusing and would probably not lead to the reaction he wanted (which was not complete and utter shock at the randomness).

Just as he was formulating a way to get back on track, Kurt's phone buzzed. The countertenor groaned and grumbled, "I really hope it's Finn saying he's here with my food. I swear I could gnaw the cast off my arm."

"I don't recommend that," Blaine smirked and sat down again. His grin faltered a little when he saw the look Kurt was giving his phone. His cheekbones were red again, and he was doing that little head tilt he does when he's confused (it doesn't happen often, mind you), and his eyebrows were drawn together.

"Kurt," Blaine asked slowly. "Are you alright?"

The injured boy just looked up from his phone, mouth slightly agape.

"I have the weirdest friends," he said quietly. Now, this made Blaine curious. Normally he would have let Kurt's business stay Kurt's business. But this had piqued his interest. What was it that he read that made him feel so awkward? And claim that his friends were strange?

"Caaaan I see?" He drawled. Kurt shook his head and drew his phone away, which then prompted Blaine to reach over to try and grab it from him. Kurt squawked in protest, shifting as far from Blaine as possible and straining his phone as far away as he could while using his casted arm as a shield to try and keep Blaine away. It wasn't working too well, and Blaine was practically lying across Kurt's chest as he groped for the phone. Not that Blaine was going to complain. After all, this could end up being a great transition. Just as he could feel the smooth edges of the phone brush against his fingertips he heard the door bang open again. Both boys froze and looked up at the trespasser.

"Kurt!" a female voice squeaked.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Exams are done! *slow-mo sucessful fist pump to _Gotta Fly Now_* (If you don't know this song, you should look it up. The Maynard Ferguson version. Most epic song of life.)**

* * *

Both boys were frozen for a moment before Blaine, hands disappointingly empty of a phone, hurried off of Kurt. Not that he didn't _want_ to be sprawled across the guy he liked. But because the girl who had just entered was rushing up to the bed and he really didn't want to be in the way of whatever it was she was planning to do. She practically skidded to a halt beside the bed and began to poke and prod Kurt; checking his pulse, looking into his eyes for something, checking a reflex in his knee (which he did not appreciate) and reaching over to grab his casted arm to check on it. All it took was one look at the boxy plaid skirt and extremely unflattering blouse for Blaine to know who it was. Kurt still complained about her wardrobe, even though they didn't go to the same school anymore. He said that the horrible memory was seared into his brained like a horror movie.

"Rachel!" Kurt gasped, pulling his arm away with a wince. "I'm fine!"

"I'm just making sure," Rachel quipped. "Doctors often times make the wrong prognosis and I was just making sure that they made no mistakes."

"I'm pretty sure they know what their doing," Kurt said briskly. "Besides, what makes you think that you would make a better judgement than a doctor."

The continued to bicker like this for a couple of minutes, leaving Blaine more than a little confused. Sure, Kurt had complained for probably a solid hour about how pushy and bossy and annoying and high maintenance and horribly dressed and diva-ish the small girl was, but the last (and only) time he'd seen them together was at Sectionals. And they were pretty buddy-buddy then. But now they were bickering like an old married couple.

Simultaneously, the two diva's whirled around and snapped, "We are not!"

Blained blinked. Oops. Did he say that out loud?

"Well," he chanced, "If you could hear yourselves than you'd say the same thing."

Apparently he took the wrong chance for a pillow was suddenly flying at him and, since he was too close to react quick enough, it smacked him right in the face. Before he could whine a reply, Kurt asked Rachel,

"What are you doing here, anyway?"

Peeking out from behind the pillow, Blaine noticed Rachel's fiery energy dissipate a little. She glanced at the ground and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she mumbled,

"Well, Noah texted me and—"

"Wait wait wait," Kurt backtracked. "_Puck_ told you? Please don't tell me he's trying to be 'a good Jew' for his mom again by dating you?"

Rachel shook her head, giving him a momentary weak glare before averting her eyes again, this time to blank heart monitor that came with every bed. Lowering the pillow to his lap, Blaine peered at Rachel, a little curious as to how the small brunette and the very large very unamused looking football player could ever have had a relationship. He didn't peg her as the bad boy type.

"He's being very helpful with… relationship troubles. Even though Finn and I are temporarily not a couple he's still keeping his boundaries. We only made out once before he stopped himself. Anyway," she brightened suddenly, dropping the quiet bashfulness so quick that Blaine would have thought she was bipolar. "He told me you were here so I decided to stop by to make sure you were alright. And then, while I was in the car, I got another text. Of course, I waited until I was in the parking lot before reading it because using a cell phone while driving is extremely reckless and stupid. Which brings me to my now other reason for coming."

Rachel all but stormed over to the other side of the bed. Or, rather, to a very confused and slightly frightened Blaine. Not frightened like Puck had made him. But like a "Whaaat the hell is going on?" kind of way. She shoved a finger in his face (which prompted an auto-reaction of innocently raised hands and moving the chair so that it was backing up) and said sternly, her voice rising in pitch and passion as she went on,

"You'd better be careful, Blaine. Kurt likes you. A lot. And if you break his heart and throw little unborn chickens at him then you're going to have to face the wrath of twelve—well eleven. No, Mr. Shue would probably be extremely unamused, so make it twelve — furious friends, at least five of which would probably not be too gentle. Plus you'll ruin your chance at Regionals since he might lose all will to sing for a while, or at least sing as well as he can, which means your team would suffer, because we all know that Kurt was the only reason you and your songbirds even got to Regionals even though he didn't have a solo—well, actually we probably tied because I wasn't on leads, but that's besides the point. The point _is_ is that you'd better treat him right and make sure that any song you sing together is so cheerful that it would make the Munchkins look depressed!"

She huffed and folded her arms over her chest, looking at him expectantly.

Blaine was pretty sure that this was the most awkward silence he'd ever been in in his life. He was too busy gaping at the overly passionate soprano with an utterly blank mind to glance at Kurt. But, since he wasn't making a comment back, he assumed that the boy was just as shell shocked as he was (and probably _really_ embarrassed). He probably was, since she gestured to Kurt and added,

"See! He doesn't blush like that for everyone.! Or at all really. Therefore—"

"Thanks for visiting, Rachel." Kurt's voice was quiet. "You can leave now."

"But Kurt—"

"Leave. Now." He repeated with a little more force. She huffed again and went fishing through one of the pockets in her skirt.

"Fine," she said curtly, placing a folded piece of paper with a gold star sticker on the bed. "Here's a list of good teas and soups for your throat. I always use them when I'm sick and I'm back singing in no time. Feel better!"

And she was gone, which seemed to make the quiet all the more awkward. The boys looked simultaneously at each other before looking away. Blaine shifted in his seat, moving it back to where it was before so that he wasn't so far away. He glanced at Kurt again, who's gaze was flickering everywhere in the room. Well, everywhere but at him.

Well, _that_ was the strangest speech yet. In fact, he wasn't quite sure what she had said exactly, but the phrases 'furious friends', 'Regionals', 'unborn chickens', and '_Kurt likes you. A lot_' stuck in his mind. That last one was the one he took a grasp on. So Kurt did like him? A lot? He was actually a little stuck on it. He'd been so busy worrying about the other boy's thoughts that he didn't really know what to think now that he did. Or, at least, he_ thought_ he knew. Maybe Rachel was just frustrated at losing her boyfriend and decided to sabotage another potentially wonderful relationship because she was pissed. Girls were vengeful like that, weren't they?

The other phrase—or rather, word— that stuck out to him was 'text'. Now it wasn't so much what the text had said, so much as reminding him about the the text that Kurt had gotten that made him want to hide his head in a hole like an ostrich. He glanced casually around for the phone, spotting it on the other side of Kurt, just lying there and begging to be read. But it was still too risky at the moment.

Kurt had been silent the entire time. He was pretty sure that the injured boy had looked at him a few times and opened his mouth to say something, only to shut his mouth and look away again. Blaine tapped out a beatless rhythm on the arms of the chair before clearing his throat. Well, might as well get this awkwardness over with. And hopefully cause a distraction so that he could _grab that phone_.

"I quite agree, Kurt," Blaine commented. "You do have the weirdest friends."

While Blaine wasn't quite expecting it, he wasn't surprised to see Kurt finally bury his hands in his face and groan incoherent words to his fingers. But it did make him grin. For Kurt covering his face and, in turn, his eyes was all Blaine needed. Quick as he could he jumped up and reached over Kurt. The injured boy was a little quicker than Blaine thought he'd be, and was already grabbing at the thief's jacket sleeve. Fortunately, Blaine was a little quicker and managed to hop out of the way before Kurt could get a good grip. He retreated to the far wall, already having the phone unlocked (no passcode Kurt? Geez.) and the text folder opened while Kurt was still sliding out of bed.

The grin froze on his face when he read them. Yes, them. Turned out there was more than one.

_No way u gotta man, ladyface. U bang yet?  
__Congrats, Kurt! Bring him 2 glee sometime 2 so we can meet him._  
_ Yo man. Nice. Tina asks if hes nice._  
_plz tll ur dolfin 2 not hert my dolfin or my bf wll run him ovr _:)  
_ Dude, nice. Id highfive u, but its a txt_

There was another one but Kurt had pretty much tackled him by this point and was trying to grab his phone. Unfortunately, Blaine was about an inch shorter than Kurt, so holding it teasingly above his head wasn't going to work. He actually had to use his body as a shield while Kurt tried to reach around him, keeping the injured arm out of the way.

"Give. It. To. Me. Blaine," he ground out as he groped. Blaine grinned.

"Aw, c'mon," he teased, voice sounding a bit strained from the inconvenient stretching. "You're friends are…quirky."

"They'll be_ dead _soon," Kurt growled, finally stretching Blaine to his limit. He yelped when he felt Kurt's hand grab the phone (and his ring finger) and yanked it from his grasp. Which lead to an ungraceful spin as he was forced around before he could free said trapped finger.

"Ow!" He cried, but Kurt paid him no mind. The countertenor just stomped back to his bed like an irritated child. Blaine grinned and resisted the urge to crack his knuckles.

Transition time.

"Hey," Blaine added a little softer, ignoring the throb in his finger. "Nice to see they care, right?"

Kurt paused, but didn't say anything. Blaine continued.

"You should be glad they're supportive."

Kurt glanced down at his phone, absentmindedly tapping at the screen.

He murmured, "But we're—"

He stopped himself, looking up at Blaine, who gave a small grin.

"Not even dating?" He finished. Kurt nodded. Blaine's heart thumped excitedly. Alright, here we go. Time to put both feet in the sandbox. All or nothing.

"Well, we—"

"Kurt!" A gruff voice interrupted. Blaine resisted the urge to groan.


	5. Chapter 5

Actually, the only reason he didn't groan was because he had the intelligence to see who it was _before_ reacting. And luckily he did. His groan turned into a corrected posture, a light grin, and him taking a seat yet again with his hands folded neatly on his lap. But, even though he was giving off the appearance of being chill and totally non-threatening, inside he was cursing every swear word known to man over and over again. And he didn't want to be doing _that_ out loud in front of this man. For, even thought they'd never formally met, Blaine had seen this man with Kurt while he was unpacking his dorm stuff from his car. The affectionate hug had given away that it was his dad then, and the give away this time was how he strode up to the bed with the most worried expression on his face that Blaine had ever seen in his life.

"Kurt, are you alright?" Kurt's dad asked. Well, more like demanded. "Hell, of course something happens when I'm out of town. The second Carol called me I was out on the road. I got here as fast as I could. What'd the doctors say? Any lasting damage?"

Kurt shook his head and took a deep breath, placing a calming hand over his fathers.

"I'm fine, Dad," Kurt assured him. "My arm will heal in a few weeks, bruises will fade, concussion's mostly gone. They want me to stay to make sure that my throat's going to be alright, but I'll be blasting the _Wicked _soundtrack and singing along to it in the garage in no time. Besides, friends have been in and out all day."

It was then that Kurt's dad finally noticed Blaine. The man gave him a scrutinizing look which, while it made Blaine feel a little uncomfortable, he didn't let phase his 'Must. Impress. This. Man.' appearance. Instead he stood up and offered the man his hand.

"Blaine Anderson," he said politely. "I go to school with Kurt. I'm in the Warblers with him."

The man grabbed his hand and shook it firmly.

"Burt," he replied as he released Blaine's hand , adding to Kurt, "Is this they guy you—"

"Yes Dad, this is him," Kurt interrupted a little loudly. "And before you get any ideas, we're just friends. Besides, Puck and Rachel both gave him a talk already."

"And Mercedes," Blaine added with a cheeky grin. Kurt just groaned a sigh and dragged his hand down his face, mumbling sarcastically, "Of course she did."

Burt still gave Blaine a look that made him think that the man wouldn't be satisfied until he got a say in it. A part of Blaine wanted to tell him to wait until he and Kurt were actually dating, but the other part of him said that it might not have been the brightest idea.

"Fine," Burt relented. "But he knows that if he or any other of his bird friends hurt you he'll have me to answer to. And if him or anyone else at that school gives you any trouble you _tell_ me. And not months after it happens!"

Kurt rolled his eyes, but turned his head away. Looked like Burt was still a little annoyed at Kurt for keeping him in the dark about the whole Karofsky issue. It made Blaine feel a little bit guilty. After all, he had known. He should have ignored Kurt's pleas and told his father anyway. But he wasn't going to remind him of that now. Instead he said,

"Don't worry, Mr. Hummel. Kurt is a valued member of Dalton and it's glee club. If anyone did bother him there are 15 guys ready for back-up."

Kurt scoffed. "Will you two stop it. I'm not some fragile China doll. I can handle most things on my own. Just because I can sound like a girl when I sing doesn't mean I am one."

Burt scowled and looked like he was about to ague, so Kurt added quickly, "But if things get too much for me to handle on my own then I'll call you."

Blaine didn't think that this was very convincing. After all, last time he didn't go to his dad. Even when things were bad he still tried to hide it. Hell, the only way Burt found out was because he saw it for himself. And even _then_ he still didn't know everything! Blaine figured that he only said it to appease his father. Which didn't look like it was working.

"Are you sure about that, Kurt?" Burt asked. "You didn't even tell me you were in the hospital! Carol called me after Finn called her!"

Blaine suddenly felt like he really shouldn't be listening in on this. Maybe this would be an opportune time to go find David and Wes…

He slowly rose out of his seat, attempting to not look as awkward as he felt. He mumbled, "I'm just gonna go—"

Kurt's casted hand suddenly shot out and weakly grabbed his hand (which made the injured boy wince and hiss quietly). Blaine's stomach clenched and he froze for a moment before trying to free himself from Kurt's grasp. Which, in theory would have been painstakingly simple. However every time he tried to slide his hand out it would jostle Kurt's fingers and, in turn, his arm. Which made him cringe every single time. So Blaine could spare himself the discomfort of listening to their fight and hurt Kurt, or he could suck it up and try not to pay attention. In the end, he chose to spare Kurt the pain and just sit and wait it out.

"That was because I didn't need you freaking out!" Kurt snapped back to his father. "You would have heard me sounding all scratchy and hurt and only heard heard the word 'hospital' before—"

"Before what?" Burt interrupted. "Before I freaked out so badly that I had another heart attack?"

Kurt didn't reply, but he ducked his head and looked away. Burt seemed to soften a little. He grabbed Kurt's other hand.

"Kurt," he said slowly. "I'm fine. Thanks to you and Carol I'm better, and thanks to that rabbit diet you two put me on I'm getting healthier. I know that you're worried but you need to understand that _I'm_ not a Chine doll either. It'll take more than a heart attack to break me. You are my son. I am _supposed_ to worry about you."

Kurt didn't say anything, but Blaine glanced up and saw his eyes water. He returned his eyes to the floor like they were ever since Kurt grabbed him, but he squeezed the other boy's fingers in an attempt to comfort him. If he hadn't felt like an intruder before then he most definitely knew he was one now.

"I just don't want you to leave," Kurt finally mumbled. Blaine didn't see the expression on Burt's face, but if it was anything like the sad quivering of his own heart then it must have been soul wrenching.

"I will always be here for you," Burt said, his voice almost like a plea.

They sat in silence for Blaine didn't know how long. For Kurt and Burt it was probably comforting. But Blaine was thinking that this was probably one of the most awkward days of his life. Yes he was moved by Burt's utter dedication to his son, but he still _should not have heard any of that_. It was family stuff. Personal.

Finally Burt told his son that he was going to go and talk to the doctor before squeezing his hand once more and leaving. Blaine offered the man a curt nod and hoped that he would take the tension with him. Unfortunately, he didn't. Blaine glanced up at Kurt to see him focusing on the edge of the mattress, his eyes still watery. But there were no tears. Blaine squeezed his hand again. Time to pull some (hopefully) comforting friend/mentor stuff.

"He's kind of right, you know," Blaine murmured, causing Kurt to whip around to face him. "You're right too, of course, in that you don't need people treating you like you're helpless. But isn't that what you're doing to him? You're afraid to let him know your problems because you're afraid he'll stress himself into being sick again. You're dad doesn't seem like he's blind. He obviously knows when things are wrong. And that's probably more stressful to him than if you'd tell him what was happening. The problem is the both of you are so strong, but neither of you realizes it."

Kurt didn't say anything at first. Then:

"How can you take his side and still be right?"

Blaine shrugged. "Maybe because he had a point?"

Kurt pursed his lips. "Can't you just be one of those guys who just smiles and nods to everything I say?"

"You can't always get what you want," Blaine said solemnly, patting Kurt's casted arm. "But, if you try sometimes, you get what you need."

Kurt gave a watery scoffed and rolled his eyes. "You did not just quote The Rolling Stones at me."

Blaine put on a look of surprise. "You know The Rolling Stones?" He asked incredulously. Well, it was more poke fun than serious, but what the heck. Anything to get Kurt out of this depressed mood. "I thought you only sang show tunes?"

Kurt gave an equally non-serious scowl. "Seriously Blaine. Just because I like musicals doesn't mean that they're all I ever listen to." He grinned mischievously, wiping the watery build up from his eyes and adding, "And besides, we did _You Can't Always Get What You Want_ at Sectionals last year."

Blaine's eyebrows raised. "Seriously?"

Kurt nodded. "Yeah. Coach Sylvester—you know, the Cheerio coach?— she leaked our set list to the competition so we had to come up with new songs on the spot. Well, Finn did, really. We had Rachel sing a ballad, which was a really good rendition of _Don't Rain On My Parade_, we did _Somebody To Love_, which we did at our Open House, and we put that Stones' song together." Kurt chuckled. Blaine couldn't help but smile along "It was amazing. Especially since we won with it. You should have seen it…"

Kurt paused.

"Why didn't you see it, anyway? I mean, we didn't compete against the Warbler's last year…"

Blaine shrugged and explained, "There's nine glee clubs in the area. They split us up randomly into three groups of three. Then the three—well, in this year's case, four— winning teams go to Regionals. And the winner of that goes to Nationals. We never competed because Vocal Adrenaline beat us out at Sectionals."

Kurt blinked and breathed a "huh". Blaine took a moment to examine Kurt. The little non-depressing banter seemed to have worked. Once Kurt had gotten rid of the water in his eyes it didn't come back. He wasn't frowning anymore, but unfortunately he wasn't smiling either. Which was okay. Blaine grinned.

"Sooooo…"

Blaine opened his mouth to continue on his road to asking Kurt out, but was interrupted by the door slamming open, _yet again_. He felt an unhealthy combination of annoyance, frustration, and anger blossom in his chest.

Seriously, what the fuck? Five minutes was all he needed. Just five _freaking_ minutes to bring up the texts yet again. Five minutes to pick up where they had left off. Five minutes so that he could finally ask Kurt out.

But no. Finn just _had_ to come back with Kurt's salad at _that_ particular moment. And Puck just _had_ to have seen Wes and David sitting somewhere that wasn't within their direct vision of Blaine. And that idiot jock just _had_ to have dragged the both of them up here by the ear while growling threats at them while the two victims tried to stammer a defense.

He'd been trying to do this for too long now. It should _not_ be this hard to ask a guy out. Even with his 'casual conversation' plans it shouldn't have been this hard! Well, it was time that he put his foot down.

"Alright, that's it!" Blaine shouted. He pointed accusingly at the crowd near the door. "You. Don't talk."

Puck glared and opened his mouth to say something, but apparently Blaine's 'Try Me' look was pretty good. The football player pursed his lips and folded his arms across his chest. Blaine huffed and turned to Kurt, who looked wide-eyed and confused, if not a little startled by the outburst

"I give up," he said dryly. "I've been trying to do this my way and not just be so abrupt about this. You know, sort of ease it into the conversation. But apparently our friends don't agree." He shot them a look. "So I'm just going to have to say it.

"Kurt, like you. I've been attracted to you since you stopped me in the halls all those months ago and I started to like _you_ pretty much the moment we had an actual conversation. But I knew about how your old school went so I decided to sit back. Drop a few hints here and there. But wait till you were comfortable.

"I figured you were now. You stopped freaking out every time one of the athletes looked at you, you started to talk to people, and you went to spend a weekend with your friends and didn't worry once about anything bad happening. I was planning on doing this when you got back to Dalton, but with this whole hospital thing and me thinking you were seriously injured I figure that there's no time like the present."

He paused to take a breath and change his tone to something a little less frustrated and a little more honest.

"Kurt Hummel, would you like to go on a date with me? And no, I don't mean a lunch date, or a coffee date, or a study date that friends go on all the time. I'm talking about me and you going out to dinner and seeing _Les Mis_ at the community theatre. Then I'll walk you to your doorstep, we'll have an awkward good-bye moment, and then I'll kiss you and ask you to be my boyfriend."

Silence.

Blaine inhaled deeply. Ohboy. Here we go. Judgment Day has finally come.

Kurt just stared at him for a moment, mouth slightly agape and eyes still wide (if anything, they were a little wider). A sudden fear gripped at Blaine's gut. What if he said no? What if he didn't really like Blaine in that way? What if he really saw him as just a mentor? What if all of those moments Blaine thought where Kurt being nervous around him wasn't because he liked him, but because he was uncomfortable and was too nice to tell him to back off a little? What if Kurt really had meant all of those times today when he said that they were 'just friends'? What if that was him trying to give Blaine the hint? What if—

"Kurt, what are you doing?"

The countertenor had pulled his phone out again, a pinkish tinge to his cheeks.

"I'm texting back my friends," He said quietly. _Oh great_, Blaine thought._ He's probably sending them something along the lines of 'lol, not a chance in_-'

"I'm telling them that Blaine isn't my boyfriend."

His heart sunk. His shoulders sagged. He clasped his hands behind his back. He actually felt his grin fall off of his face and smack on the floor.

"Right," Blaine sighed, knowing that he probably should have been trying to not show how disappointed he was.

"But," Kurt continued with a wry grin, "they should congratulate me again after my date on Saturday."

* * *

**FIN**

**PS- I've never broken anything *knocks on wood*. Therefore I don't really know if moving your fingers with a broken arm really hurts. But since your fingers and your arms are closely related I was thinking so. If not, then shhhhhhh...**


End file.
